


Happy Birthday Dean

by paperstorm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperstorm/pseuds/paperstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just plain birthday porn. General spoilers for Season 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday Dean

**Author's Note:**

> [ ](http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/843/happybdaydean.jpg/)
> 
>   
> 

Sam wakes up early. He set the alarm on his cell phone specifically instead of the clock radio, because that way he could turn the volume down and put the phone on the little table right next to his pillow so it would wake him but not Dean. Not that the clock radio would have too much hope of waking Dean either, even if Sam set it as loud as it would go. Up until about a month ago, Dean was such a light sleeper that even the tiniest noises would startle him awake. Even in the middle of a REM cycle, Dean could be up and out of bed with a machete in his hand faster than you could blink. Sam’s like that too – it’s a necessary skill when you do what they do. Hunters always have to be on alert. And Dean, being Dean, has spent the majority of his life sleeping with _both_ eyes open; one eye on the door and one on Sam. But recently, Dean’s been sleeping like a rock. The other day, Sam had to all but slap him across the face to get him conscious.

He suspects it has something to do with the overwhelming grief of losing Bobby. Sam’s just as upset about it as Dean is, but they handle these things differently. They always have. Sam, a little more inclined to let himself feel and actually _deal_ with those feelings, was really broken up about it at first but now, gradually, he’s accepting that Bobby’s gone and he’s starting to be okay about it. Not completely, and not every day, but he’s getting there. Dean, on the other hand, hasn’t shed a single tear about it after that first day. He won’t even talk about it. He just grits his teeth and sets his shoulders and struts around pretending that he’s fine and nothing happened. It makes Sam nuts, and it makes him ache inside, but that’s how Dean does things. But it must be just exhausting, working so hard to keep that mask firmly in place all day every day, and as a result, Dean’s actually sleeping well for the first time in his life.

It’s a mixed blessing, or something like that. Sam can’t really bring himself to be too pissed at Dean for his no-emotions policy if it means Dean’s finally getting some rest. He’s looked a little better lately, physically at least, than he has in years. The lines on his face a little less pronounced and the dark circles under his eyes a little paler and his skin and eyes a little brighter.

Now, as Sam slowly blinks himself awake and glances over at his brother, Dean’s on his side facing away from Sam, snuggled into the pillow like a little kid. They fell asleep together, like they usually do, but at some point in the night Dean must’ve rolled away. Sam sits up and leans over just enough to see Dean’s face, and _god_ , he’s beautiful when he’s asleep. The lines of worry around his eyes and mouth are totally smooth, his hair mussed up and un-gelled, his lips slightly parted as he breathes evenly. He looks so serene, so at peace, that Sam almost wants to leave him be. But he woke up early for a very specific reason, and he doesn’t imagine Dean will protest too much at being woken up the way Sam’s planning.

Sam rubs the sleep out of his eyes for another few moments, and then he reaches over and gently rolls Dean onto his back. He smiles fondly as Dean snuffles sleepily and unconsciously reaches out to the empty space where Sam had just been lying. Dean’s forehead twists into a slight frown when his fingers catch nothing but air, but then he settles again and Sam shuffles down under the blankets. It’s warn under there, and dark and quiet and it smells like Dean’s skin, and Sam’s half tempted to just get comfy with his head on Dean’s stomach and drift back into dreams. But he doesn’t. Instead he squirms around until he’s hunched over Dean’s legs, and then he pulls the blanket down and lets it drape over his shoulders because he wants to be able to see his brother.

Slowly, Sam leans down and presses a few barely-there kisses to Dean’s abdomen. His skin is sleep-warm and sweet on Sam’s tongue, as he nuzzles into the soft hairs below Dean’s belly-button and then parts his lips over them. He loves this spot, always has. There’s something endearing and boyish about the sparse golden hairs, and Sam loves pushing the tip of his nose through them. Dean sniffs quietly, and Sam stills his movements. He doesn’t want Dean to wake up, not quite yet. He wants to take his time, wants to explore and tease and slowly drive Dean crazy before he’s even fully conscious. He spends a few minutes laving open-mouthed kisses all over Dean’s lightly-muscled stomach and hip-bones. The v-cut of muscle isn’t as defined as Sam’s is, but it still makes Sam’s mouth water.

Moving lower, Sam nuzzles like a cat between Dean’s legs. His intoxicating scent is the strongest here, and Sam closes his eyes and lets it wash over him. Dean’s already half-hard in his boxers, which isn’t surprising since it’s the morning and since Sam’s been giving his belly a tongue bath for the last few minutes, and he parts his lips over the sleepy, easily-aroused flesh. He sucks gently, getting the soft cotton slick with his own spit, and Dean stirs a little but doesn’t wake. Sam tugs the waistband down over Dean’s quickly filling length, tucking it under Dean’s balls and cupping them in his palm, rolling them between his fingers and just watching for a few moments as Dean’s cock lengthens and thickens under the attention. When Sam lowers his head to lick at the base of it, Dean whimpers audibly and tosses his head on the pillow, and Sam grins. As long as they’ve been doing this, over a decade now, it still never fails to light him up inside when he can draw beautiful sounds like that out of his brother.

Still gently squeezing Dean’s sac, Sam nudges the head of his cock with his nose and then draws it into his mouth, laving his tongue over the slit and letting his eyes flutter closed at the resulting spurt of tangy pre-come he gets as a reward. Dean’s breathing has started to quicken, and Sam guesses he’s only got another minute or so before Dean wakes up. If it were someone else, Dean would have woken up the second Sam first kissed his stomach, hunter instincts so deeply ingrained into him that they’re second nature. But Dean’s body knows Sam’s touch enough to distinguish it from anyone else’s. He doesn’t do this all that often, but he always loves it. Loves teasing Dean when he’s in that base place between sleeping and not, when his body silently asks for what it wants because his brain’s still too sluggish to make his mouth form the words, when he just floats along the edge and trusts Sam to take care of him.

Sam ups the ante a little – he wants Dean to wake up now. He’s mostly hard himself, dizzy with arousal from Dean’s scent and the softness of his skin in harsh contrast to the hardness resting heavily on Sam’s tongue. He sucks a little harder, sliding down more on Dean’s cock and then working up to a rhythm. One hand still cupping Dean’s balls, Sam brings the other one up and wraps it around the base of Dean’s stiff length, making up for what he can’t fit into his mouth. He jerks Dean quickly and purposefully while he sucks at the head and swirls his tongue around it, the way Dean does when he’s sucking Sam’s cock and it always drives him crazy.

Dean moans, louder this time, and Sam glances up from under his bangs to find his brother watching him, his eyes still glazed over from sleep but his cheeks flushed and his lips parted. “Shit, Sammy,” he breathes, reaching down with a shaky hand and brushing Sam’s hair out of his eyes.

Sam just waggles his eyebrows because he can’t talk with his mouth full of Dean’s dick, and Dean laughs breathlessly and lets his head fall back on another moan as Sam dips down further and lets the head of Dean’s cock slip into his throat. Dean’s hips jerk erratically and Sam can feel the moment right before he comes, has done this enough times to pull back and let the hot spurts of Dean’s release land on his tongue so he can drink them down without choking. Dean grunts quietly with each pulse, and Sam greedily swallows everything he has to give, and then licks at Dean’s over-sensitive flesh to get anything he missed. Dean shivers a little and Sam stops – knows that it’s almost too much sometimes to have contact so soon after an orgasm. He stays where he is, though, breathing hot breaths over Dean’s softening cock and gently tugging at his balls the way he knows Dean likes.

Dean just lies there and pants for a minute or two, and then he reaches blindly for Sam, and Sam goes willingly; crawling up Dean’s body. Sam had almost forgotten how hard he still is until the underside of his dick brushes against Dean’s thigh and he hisses, but Dean swallows the sound up in a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders and pulling him down so they’re flush together. Dean kisses him breathless, licking the taste of himself off Sam’s tongue, and Sam keeps his forehead resting against Dean’s when they pull back to gasp for air.

“Wow.”

“Morning,” Sam answers.

“That … fuck,” Dean says around a soft laugh. “I think you broke my brain.”

Sam smiles and kisses him again. “Happy Birthday, Dean.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Dean groans. “M’fuckin’ old now, Sammy.”

“Not old,” Sam chides, kissing along Dean’s stubbled jawline. “Fuckin’ gorgeous. Perfect. Mine.”

“All yours,” Dean agrees, tangling his fingers in Sam’s hair and angling his head so he can kiss him deeply again. Sam melts into it, little tremors of pleasure trilling down his spine when Dean rocks his hips up and the top of his thigh rubs against Sam’s cock through his underwear. “Want me to give you a hand with that little problem? _Big_ problem?”

Sam chuckles. “In a bit.” For now, he’s perfectly happy just getting lost in the warm cavern of Dean’s mouth.

“So the whole morning head was just a birthday thing, huh?” Dean asks, a smirk on his face that Sam can hear rather than see. “I shouldn’t get too used to it?”

“Probably not,” Sam agrees, smiling down at Dean so much his cheeks hurt.

“Ah, well,” Dean sighs dramatically. “Guess I’ll just have to have another birthday next year.”

“Hey, about that,” Sam starts, sliding off Dean a little and propping his head up on his hand, his other arm sliding across Dean’s stomach to keep him close, “I know things’ve been shitty lately. But we’re gonna have a good day, okay? It’s your birthday, we deserve to have at least a few days a year where we actually _smile_.”

“I can get on board with that.” Dean shifts around a little and leans up to kiss Sam’s neck. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Hm,” Sam hums, pretending to think about it while Dean sucks at the hollow of his throat. “Thought we could take a shower, maybe get all soapy and see where things go. Then I thought we could have cheeseburgers for breakfast, and cheeseburgers for lunch, and then more cheeseburgers for dinner.”

Dean bursts out laughing. “Dude, that’s gross even for me.”

Sam laughs back. “Alright, well maybe we’ll have cherry pie for lunch instead.”

Dean groans appreciatively.

“And then I thought we could drive somewhere,” Sam continues, “find some field or something away from the city, somewhere we can see the stars.” He wraps his arm more snugly around Dean’s middle and leans down to whisper right in his ear. “You could fuck me on the hood of the Impala, if you want.”

“Oh _fuck_ , yeah,” Dean breathes, grabbing at Sam’s shoulders and pulling Sam back on top of him. “Best birthday _ever_ ,” he pronounces.

“I love you,” Sam whispers, his words slurred against Dean’s lips. It isn’t something he’s said a whole lot lately, what with their lives being a constant shit-tornado and all, but he means it in this moment as much as he ever has. Dean’s his everything – the only time Sam ever feels _right_ is when he’s wrapped up in Dean’s arms.

“I know you do,” Dean whispers back, and that almost means more than Dean saying he loves Sam too. Sam’s never, for one second, doubted that his brother loves him to the ends of the universe and back. If Dean ever stopped loving him, Sam thinks he’d forget how to breathe.

“More than anything, okay?” he adds, moving back just enough to see Dean’s eyes, so Dean can see how much Sam means it. For whatever reason, right now it feels like they both need that. “More than everything.”

“I know,” Dean repeats. “Me too.” He smiles a little, and then he pulls Sam back down and kisses him again like he’ll die if he stops.

Sometimes Sam thinks they both would.


End file.
